A Dance Is A Wish His Heart Makes
by Telperion
Summary: Jack tries to get the Doctor to dance with him. Slash.


Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood belong to the BBC and Russell T. Davies. They are not mine, nor will they ever be.

Spoilers: 'The Doctor Dances'

A Dance Is A Wish His Heart Makes

Jack was obsessed. Fixated. Possessed by one idea.

He had one hope, one wish, one desire. A desire that he was determined to see fulfilled. It had become an all-consuming mission. A challenge that he would not be beaten by.

Jack Harkness wanted to dance with the Doctor.

It was such a small thing, really, in the grand scheme of things. Such an unimportant thing. But to Jack it was rapidly becoming the most important thing in the world. And it was apparently the one thing the Doctor wouldn't do.

The Time Lord had long ago caved to Jack's flirting, and the sex was fantastic – possibly the hottest he'd ever had, which was saying something, considering the life Jack had led. But, for once in his life, sex wasn't the only thing Jack wanted. He wanted more. He wanted a different kind of closeness, an intimacy that didn't necessarily require ripping another person's clothes off.

And somehow, for Jack, that desire had translated itself into dancing. It was more than want – Jack _needed_ to dance with the Doctor.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried. He had been trying ever since the day that he had first stepped on board the TARDIS, when he had seen dancing as nothing more than a means to an end – a way to get into the Doctor's pants.

He had tried everything. Taking the Doctor to a nightclub, only for him to steadfastly refuse to leave his barstool. Playing music in the control room, only for the Doctor to protest it was ruining his concentration and turn it off. Dance with Rose right in front of him, only for the Doctor to totally ignore them.

Jack was at his wits' end. He had all but run out of ideas. And then, when he had been on the verge of giving up, a little sex shop in a back street in Manchester, circa 1998 (why were they in 1998? Who knew? – Jack had been too drunk at the time to remember) had gifted him with a new plan.

There, on the counter next to the cash register, was a stand displaying booklets of love cheques. Something Jack had never seen before, but which he had seen the potential of the second he picked one of them up and started flicking through it. The booklet had some _very_ interesting promises in it, ranging from the downright kinky right through to the extremely romantic. And then, on the very last page, Jack had found the promise on which his whole plan hinged.

_I promise to dance with you_.

The plan was simple. Jack would persuade the Doctor that using the promises from this little book was a good idea. He was fairly sure he could accomplish this. The Doctor had taken a while to thaw initially, but once he had it had quickly become apparent that this 900-year-old Time Lord was pretty much up for anything, and could bring 900 years of experience to the table.

Once the persuasion part was done, Jack would suggest that they take turns using cheques to promise things, with himself choosing first. There were an even number of cheques, which meant that, even if he left the dancing one until last, the Doctor would have to choose it eventually, and then he would have to dance with Jack. The Doctor didn't make promises lightly, under _any _circumstances, so he would have to keep this one once he had made it.

And the plan really had turned out to be that simple. Persuasion: check. Taking turns: check. Promises kept: check. Jack and the Doctor had already chequed their way through most of the booklet, including 'I promise to let you tie me up', 'I promise to strip for you', and even 'I promise to bring you breakfast in bed'. Jack had thought it wise to take some of the more mundane pledges for himself – he didn't want the Doctor to think he was being steered in any way. So, as well as all the slightly more bed-orientated activities he had promised, Jack had also brought the Doctor flowers, and taken him on a romantic moonlit walk, events that had caused the Doctor to roll his eyes, but which Jack could tell he had secretly been pleased by.

And now there were only two cheques left – one promising dancing, and one promising something so licentious that even Jack had been a little taken aback by it. Still, he no choice if he wanted the Doctor to dance.

So, here he was, heart beating a little faster than usual, trying to pluck up the courage to give the Doctor one small slip of paper.

The Doctor was seemingly very busy – tinkering with this and that, apparently oblivious to Jack hovering in the doorway. But Jack knew that the Doctor knew he was there. The Doctor was always aware of what was going on around him – it was a little uncanny sometimes.

Jack knew he was looking stupider with every passing second, so he took a deep breath, feigned nonchalance, and walked over to the Doctor.

"Hello, Jack." The Doctor didn't turn his head, and Jack was suddenly absurdly grateful that he wouldn't have to look the Doctor in the eye as he handed him the piece of paper.

The Doctor took the paper and read it. Then one eyebrow rose by half-an-inch – the only sign of surprise that he exhibited – and he turned to face Jack.

"Well, well, Captain," he drawled. "I had no idea you were so…experimental." He had a predatory glint in his eye, and Jack felt his heart start to beat even faster as the Doctor moved towards him.

His nervousness must have shown on his face because, as the Doctor wrapped his arms around Jack's waist, he leaned over and whispered in Jack's ear.

"Ah, ah, ah, can't back out now. You promised."

Jack swallowed. He had seen a predatory Doctor many times, but he had never before felt quite so much like the prey. "I know, but…"

"But nothing. You promised. Can't break your promises. It's not fair."

And that was all it took. Three little words.

Jack snapped.

"No, I'll you what's not fair," he hissed angrily. "_This _isn't fair."

To hell with the plan. Jack suddenly saw what he had failed to see all along. Him and the Doctor – it wasn't about taking turns. It was about Jack giving the Doctor what _he _wanted, and the Doctor taking it. The Doctor might have promised many things to Jack over the past month, but ultimately he had still got what he wanted – Jack in his bed. Jack had wanted that too, but he had also wanted so much more, and he didn't feel like he had got any of it.

The Doctor stepped back, the lascivious look replaced by one of confusion. "What isn't fair?"

Jack opened his mouth to tell the Doctor what he was feeling. But he suddenly discovered that he couldn't. He was afraid. Afraid that the Doctor would laugh or that he would be kicked out on to the next asteroid they passed.

He couldn't say any of it, and Jack hated himself for that. Talking was not something he normally had a problem with, but now, when it really mattered, he couldn't. He felt mute.

"You made me love you," were the only words he could force out through his gritted teeth. "You made me love you."

And the Doctor could only watch as Jack walked away from him.

* * *

The Doctor was a little unsure as to what had just happened. Oh, he got that Jack was angry with him, sure. And he understood the love part – that bit had come through loud and clear. What he didn't understand was what had precipitated this sudden outburst. 

Seemingly, Jack was upset that he had fallen in love with the Doctor. But why should that be the case? Falling in love was supposed to be a good thing, wasn't it? But Jack seemed like he was having a big problem with it.

The Doctor had never pretended to Jack that their relationship could be normal. There were always going to be obstacles. He could never give all of himself to another person. And he knew – he _knew_ – that Jack didn't expect that, in any case. Jack understood the rules.

So why was Jack now getting so upset over the Doctor not giving him everything?

And then, like a flash of blinding light from above, like an epiphany, the Doctor suddenly saw what the problem was. Never mind everything – had he actually given Jack anything? Anything at all? The phrase Jack had used suddenly made a lot more sense.

_You made me love you_.

Jack didn't let his guard down easily – the Doctor knew that. He didn't allow himself to have feelings. He had a bit of fun, a bit of a laugh, and then he was gone. But now, almost against his will, he had fallen for someone – and fallen hard. And the Doctor hadn't given him any sign – any sign at all – that he had fallen too. Jack didn't want everything, but he needed something.

The Doctor sighed. Humans – they could be bloody complicated sometimes. And yet, somehow, they were never more trouble than they were worth. Now, what was he going to do about Jack?

Then his eye was caught by something red on the bench. Picking it up, he found that it was the remains of the book of love cheques, looking a little the worse for wear after a month, and now empty of cheques.

No, wait. There was one left. And it was the Doctor's turn. Opening the book, the Doctor read the words printed there, and he knew what he had to do.

* * *

The Doctor wandered back into the control room. He had been looking for Jack, but the Captain was nowhere to be found. Rose had said she thought she had seen him heading out somewhere, looking very determined about something. 

The Doctor had no problems guessing what that something was. When Jack got angry or upset he automatically headed for the nearest source of alcohol. Therefore, it didn't take a genius to work out that Jack had gone to find a bar. The Doctor would just have to wait until he got back.

However, that apparently wasn't going to be as long as he thought. As he entered the control room, he discovered Jack sprawled on the bench, staring into space.

"Jack?"

Jack looked at him with a rather vacant expression in his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Are you alright?"

That got a reaction. Jack snorted with laughter, and suddenly he didn't look quite so vacant. "Oh, I'm fine. After seven Petrified Vodkas, I'm on top of the world!"

The Doctor was impressed. After seven Petrified Vodkas, most people wouldn't even be able to make coherent noises, let alone form whole sentences.

"You don't seem like you've drunk that much," he said carefully.

Jack laughed again, and this time the sound had a rather bitter edge to it. "That's because the universe is conspiring against me," he replied. "It doesn't want me to get drunk. Which definitely puts it in my bad books."

"So is that why you're here?" enquired the Doctor. "Because you can't get drunk? Not that I'm unhappy to see you," he added hastily. "Quite the contrary, in…"

"Actually, I got kicked out of a bar," interrupted Jack, "Got a bit too pissy with a barfly, and the next thing I know I'm landing on my butt in an alleyway. Everywhere else was closed, so I had no choice but to come home."

The Doctor was pleased to hear that Jack still considered the TARDIS home, no matter how upset he might be.

"Well, I'm glad to see you. I've got something to give you." He held out the cheque.

Jack took it, but seemed not to notice what it was that he'd been given. He appeared to be considering where he might have hidden any secret stashes of alcohol, if the mutterings coming out of his mouth were anything to go by.

"Jack," said the Doctor quietly but forcefully, halting the flow of mumbled words. "Read it, please."

Jack looked down, apparently only just noticing that he was holding something. Slowly, he unfolded the piece of paper and read the words printed there.

_I promise to dance with you._

"I'm not stupid, you know," said the Doctor, when Jack didn't immediately say anything, "I have noticed your efforts to get me to, er…trip the light fantastic, shall we say?"

"So, why wouldn't you?" asked Jack in a low voice, not looking at the Doctor. "You seemed perfectly happy to dance with Rose. Why not with me?"

"With Rose it was always just a bit of fun," explained the Doctor. "It was like a challenge to her – make the Time Lord dance. She had no ulterior motive. To you it meant more. To you it was more than just dancing. I knew that, but I pretended to myself that I didn't. I was trying to protect myself. You know I'll never be able to totally open myself up – to anyone – and I think I persuaded myself that if I danced with you I would be exposing too much of myself. Ridiculous, isn't it?" He smiled ruefully, trying to encourage Jack to smile back.

But Jack refused to be drawn. "Yes, dancing meant more to me than just dancing," he agreed. "But I wasn't asking for a lifetime commitment or anything – just a bit of closeness. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but intimacy doesn't begin and end with sex, even if I do project that impression sometimes."

"I know that, Jack," replied the Doctor. "You just wanted to show me you cared. And I want to show you that _I_ care. Which is why…" – gesturing to the piece of paper that Jack still clutched in his hand – "…I promise to dance with you."

Reaching over, the Doctor hit a switch on the console, and immediately soft music started playing somewhere. It was Glenn Miller – similar to the piece that Jack had played when they first met in the London Blitz – and the Doctor hoped that Jack would appreciate the sentiment behind the choice.

Apparently, Jack appreciated the sentiment very well, as he finally smiled, half closing his eyes in happiness. The Doctor held out his hand and Jack took it, moving close enough that he could wrap his arms around the Doctor's waist. They were so close that the Doctor could feel Jack's heart beating, and he was fairly certain that Jack could feel his too – both of them.

Setting a slow pace, the two men swayed back and forth, Jack's head on the Doctor's shoulder, the Doctor's hand stroking the hair at the nape of Jack's neck.

Jack sighed happily. "This is nice," he murmured softly.

"Yes, it is," agreed the Doctor.

"Although…"

"What?"

"Would you mind not stepping on my toes quite so much?"


End file.
